All language subtitles for S05E02 The Problem of Thor Bridge

Long, long before Jesus.

Truly a lost one.

And it ends with them.

Your mama's house. and your country too.

Never allow yourself to love someone too
deeply, Mr. Bates.

It will destroy you.

So you come

You have a case, Holmes.

Ha! The faculty of observation is
certainly contagious.

It has enabled you at once to probe my
secret. Yes, I have a case.

After a month of trivialities and
stagnation, the wheels move once more.

Might I share it?

With little to share. We will discuss it
after you consume those two hard

-boiled eggs with which our temporary
caucus favoured us.

Their condition may not be unconnected
with a copy of the Family Herald, which

observed yesterday on the hall table.

Even for a trivial matter as cooking an
egg demands an attention, which is

incompatible with a love romance in that
excellent periodical.

I hope Mrs. Hudson is enjoying her
holiday.

You've heard of Neil Gibson, the Gold
King?

You mean the American senator?

Well, he was senator of some western
state.

He's better known as the greatest gold
-mining magnate in the world.

Yes, I know of him.

Stayed in England for some time, didn't
he? He was a conservative state enhancer

some five years ago. You may have heard
of the tragic death of his wife.

That's why the name is familiar.

I know nothing of the details.

The fact is that the case, though
exceedingly sensational, presents no

difficulty. The interesting personality
of the accused, Miss Grace Dunbar,

Does not obscure the clearness of the
evidence.

That is the view taken by the coroner's
jury and also in the police court. This

is a thankless business, Watson.

I can discover facts, but I cannot
change them.

Unless some new and entirely unexpected
ones come to light, I do not see what my

client can hope for.

Your client?

I'm falling into your involved habit of
telling a story back.

Let's read this verse.

Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I cannot see
the best woman God ever made go to her

death without doing all that is possible
to save her.

I can't explain things. I can't even try
to explain them. But I know beyond all

doubt that Miss Dunbar is innocent.

You know the facts. Who doesn't?

It has been the gossip of the country.

and never a voice raised for them.

It's the damned injustice of it all that
makes me crazy.

That woman has a heart that wouldn't let
her kill a fly.

Maybe I have a clue and don't know it.
Anyway, all I know and all I have and

I am are for your use, if only you can
save her.

You hardly have time to master all these
cuttings. I must give it to you in a

nutshell if you're to take an
intelligent interest in the proceedings.

Mr. Gibson, as I understand, is a man
who married a Brazilian wife, of whom I

know nothing, said that she was past her
prime, which was all the more

unfortunate as the very attractive
governess superintended the education of

children. These are the three people
concerned, seen as the grand old manor

house.

As for the tragedy, it takes place
across a bridge over the lake, half a

from the house.

The wife was found late at night by a
gamekeeper on that bridge.

She was carried in a dinner dress and a
revolver bullet through her brain.

No weapon was found near her and there
was no local clue as to her murder.

No weapon near her. Mark that, Watson.

Is this too condensed or can you follow
it clearly?

No, no, no. It's all very clear.

Why suspect the governess?

In the first place, there was some very
direct evidence.

The dead woman had a note upon her.

making an appointment at the bridge and
signed by the governors.

Mr. Gibson sent his farm manager for the
police and stayed with the body,

insisting that nothing should be removed
until the police arrived just after 11.

Then there is the evidence of the
revolver with one discharge chamber and

caliber which corresponded with the
bullet.

Yes, sir, she's here.

It was found in the drawer of her
wardrobe.

In the drawer of her wardrobe.

That's pretty damning.

So the two jewellers thought.

It is now referred to as the Assizes in
Winchester.

And the motive?

Mr Gibson is a very attractive man.

If his wife dies...

Who more likely to succeed her than the
young lady who had already, by all

accounts, received pressing attentions
from her employer?

Love, fortune, power, all depending upon
one middle -aged man.

Ugly. Very ugly.

Nor could she prove an alibi.

On the contrary, she had to admit that
she was down to the bridge by nine o

'clock. A servant had seen her hurrying
there.

Well, that really does seem final.

And yet, Watson, and yet... There's some
mistake, and

that is our client, considerably before
his time.

Gentleman to see, sir?

Mr Neil Gibson?

No, sir, not him. His name's Bates, and
he looks a bit aggravated.

Thank you, Billy.

I have only a short time, Mr Bates. I
know Mr Gibson is coming.

I am manager of his estate.

Mr. Holmes, he's a villain, an infernal
villain. Strong words, Mr. Bates.

Well, I have to be emphatic, Mr. Holmes.
The time's so limited. I'd not have him

find me here for the world.

And you're his manager.

Oh, I've given him notice.

In a couple of weeks, I shall have
shaken off his cursed slavery.

He's a hard man, Mr. Holmes, hard to all
about him. But his wife was his chief

victim. He was brutal to her. Oh, yes,
sir, brutal.

Now, how she come by her death, I do not
know. But let me tell you, he made her

life a misery.

She was a creature of the tropics.

A Brazilian by birth, as you no doubt
know.

Yes, sir, I understand. Please continue,
continue.

Tropical by birth, tropical by nature.
She was a child of the sun.

And a passion.

She loved him as only such women can
love.

We all felt for her.

Hated him for the way he treated her.

But he's plausible.

And cunning.

And that's all I have to tell you.

Don't take him at face value. There is
more behind.

Now I'll go. No, please don't detain me.
He's almost due.

Well, well, well. Mr. Gibson has a nice,
loyal household.

The warning is a useful one.

This is my friend and colleague, Dr.
Watson.

Now, let me say right here, Mr. Holmes,
money is nothing to me in this business.

You can burn it. If it's any use in
lighting you to the truth, this woman is

innocent. This woman has to be cleared.
It's up to you to do it.

Now, name your figure. My professional
charges are at a fixed rate.

I do not bear to them, save when I remit
them altogether.

Well, if money makes no difference to
you, think of the reputation.

If you pull this off, every newspaper in
England and America will be booming.

You'll be the talk of two continents.

I do not think I'm in need of booming,
Mr. Gibson.

Please, let us get on to the fact.

Well, you'll find most of the main ones
in the press reports. I don't think I

can add much to them, but if there's
anything you'd wish more light on, well,

I'm here to give it. Well, there is just
one point.

What is it?

What are your exact relations with Miss
Dunbar?

I suppose you are within your rights.
You may be doing your duty in asking

a question, Mr. Holmes.

We would agree to suppose so.

Then I can assure you that our relations
were always and entirely those of an

employer towards a young lady whom he
never conversed with or even saw, save

when she was in the company of his
children.

I'm rather the busy man, Mr. Gibson.

I don't have time or taste for aimless
conversations.

I wish you good morning.

What the devil do you mean by this, Mr.
Holmes?

Do you dismiss my case?

No, Mr. Gibson, I dismiss you.

The case is quite sufficiently
complicated without the added difficulty

information. Meaning that I lied? I
tried.

to express it as delicately as I could,
but if you insist upon the word, I will

not contradict you.

Don't be noisy, Mr.

Gibson. I find after breakfast any
argument most unsettling. I suggest a

stroll in the open air, and some quiet
thought will be greatly to your

advantage.

I've broken stronger men than you, Mr.
Holmes.

Nobody crosses me and gets the better of
it.

So many have said so, yet here I am.

Ah, Watson, he has a great deal yet to
learn.

How on earth do you know about his
relationship with the governess?

Bluff, Watson, bluff.

I considered the passionate and
unbusinesslike tone of his letter and

it with his manner and appearance.

It's pretty clear there was some deep
emotion centred upon the accused woman

rather than the victim. I bluffed him by
giving the impression that I was

absolutely certain of it. When in
reality you were only suspicious.

Do you think he'll come back?

He is sure to come back.

We must come.

Oh, my dear Watson, I fear you will not
improve any reputation I have acquired

by adding the Thorbridge and Mr.

to your annals. I fear I have made a
serious misjudgment.

Holmes, the senator may not have
returned, but surely his letter has

on behalf of Miss Dunbar.

She's the one in need.

Might we not pay her a visit in the
cells of Winchester?

But we require the official permits.

we have the means to apply.

Of course, it may not be quite ethical,
but practical.

Practical! I congratulate you.

You've solved our problem, Watson. Some
officious little pipsqueak of a clerk

queried both the letter and our home
office permits. He demanded a personal

authorization from Gibson himself.

But you sorted it out, only by the good
fortune of meeting her lawyer, Mr.

Cummings. He's secured a brief audience
with her. Mr. Joyce Cummings, a man with

a rising reputation that is certainly in
her favor.

It really is provident to see you here,
Mr. Holmes.

Her trial is in two days, and I really
am at my wit's end to find any evidence

to state. She will admit to writing a
note and giving a rendezvous with Mrs.

Gibson? She has little choice, but
beyond that, I've advised her to reserve

defense. Quite so.

This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his
colleague, Dr. Watson.

Your employer, Mr. Gibson, has engaged
me to look into the unhappy matter.

Oh, I'm very grateful to Mr. Gibson.

It is incredible that the charge against
me has been sustained.

I thought the whole thing would clear
itself up in the police court.

My dear, I beg of you to have no
illusions. Mr. Cummings here will assure

all the cards... Mr. Gibson is convinced
of your innocence, but it would be a

cruel deception to pretend that you're
not in very great danger.

I could conceal nothing.

What were the true relations between you
and Mr. Gibson's wife?

Permit what? Permit!

How dare you break this liberty, Mr.

Holmes? Mr. Gibson, and you, Cummings, I
did not engage you there to conspire.

Against me. These men are here under
false pretenses. I did not authorize

visit. They're deceivers. I demand their
removal. At once.

You've made a disturbance, Mr. Gibson,
worthy of bedlam. I'll have you crushed

for this, Holmes.

Or it'll profit you nothing.

Mr. Holmes.

We are leaving, Superintendent.

Mr. Cummings. For the moment, Mr.
Dunbar.

Mr. Ferguson.

There is an excellent exhibition of the
museum across the street. I recommend it

to you.

The museum closes at five.

Copy of the lease of the Buckbroke
Glassworkers, dated 1578.

These Huguenots, are they any relations
of yours?

Possibly.

Monsieur Henri de Portal and his
papermaking of Leverstoke.

They've had the manufacture of banknotes
for over a hundred years.

It's good to know that there's money
somewhere in your family.

Good afternoon, Mr. Ferguson.

Mr. Neil Gibson wishes to see you at
Thor Place at 11 o 'clock tomorrow

This evening will be more convenient.

The morning.

11 o 'clock, Mr. Holmes.

Will the motor be sent for us?

There is a train which will take you to
Thor Village.

Mr. Gibson is a busy man.

He expects punctuality.

How did you know that he was going to
turn me in?

It would be enough of an impression upon
Miss Dunbar to turn us back into

favour.

We are, after all, her only hope. Now,
Watson, we must find a comfortable inn

for the night so that we can arrive
punctually at your place at nine o

the morning.

I thought he said eleven.

Nine, Watson.

To meet Sergeant Coventry of the local
police.

At all events, Mr. Holmes, I'd rather
have you than Scotland Yard.

The Yard gets called into a case and the
local loses all credit.

That may be blamed for failure.

Now, you play straight, so I've heard.

I need not appear to the matters at all.
That's very handsome of you.

Your friend, Dr. Watson, can be trusted.
I know.

Now, there is one question I'd like to
ask you. I breathe it in no soul but

Don't you think there might be a case
against Mr. Neil Gibson himself?

According to the therapy, he retired to
his study after dinner...

I had no company at all until the alarm
at 11.

As I've been considering, Mr. Gibson,
these Americans are ready with their

pistols in our folk car.

It was this pistol, you know, one of a
pair he had.

One of a pair?

Where is the other?

Well, these gentlemen have all kinds of
firearms at once or another.

We never quite matched that particular
pistol.

The box was made for two. Now!

is where the body lay.

I gathered from the press reports that
the shot was fired at close quarters.

Very close, sir. Near the right temple?

Just behind it, sir. How did the body
lie?

On the back, sir. No trace of a
struggle. No mark. No weapons.

The short note from Miss Dunbar was
clutched in her left hand.

Clutched? Yes, sir.

We could hardly open her fingers.

That is of the greatest importance.

It excluded the idea that anybody could
have placed it there after death to

furnish a false clue.

What do you mean?

Now, the note, as I remember, was quite
short.

Yes, I will be at Thorbridge, nine o
'clock, G. Dunbar. Wasn't that it?

So it was, sir.

The point of the note is obscured, it's
not.

Well, sir, it seemed, if I may be bold
as to say, sir, the only really clear

point in the whole case.

Assuming the note is genuine.

She certainly received it sometime
before, say, an hour or two. Why was she

clasping it in her left hand?

She had no need to refer to it in the
interview.

Doesn't that seem remarkable?

Well, sir, as you put it, perhaps it
does.

That is curious.

Oh, yes, sir, we noted that.

I expect it's been done by some
passerby.

It took some violence to do that.

It was a hard knock.

Not from above, but below.

You see, it's on the lower end of the
parapet, Watson.

Yes. And in a direct line with the
position of the body.

Probably of no matter.

No footprints, you say?

The ground was iron -hard, sir. No marks
at all.

Then we had nothing more to learn here.

You are early, Mr. Holmes.

It is not on the case with punctuality,
Mr. Ferguson.

Mr. Gibson is in a meeting.

He is not ready to see you.

I'll take care of him, Ferguson.

I'm very glad to see you, gentlemen.

As we are a little early, perhaps we
could see the gunman.

A man who has his enemies.

Oh, yes.

If you knew him and his methods.

He sleeps with a loaded revolver in a
drawer by his bed. He's a man of

sir. Have you ever seen him strike his
wife?

Yes. More than once.

Our gold king does not seem to shine in
private life.

That's the box that contained the murder
weapon. It was one of a pair.

The other is missing.

Mr. Ferguson is sure to know that you're
consorting with us. Does that hold no

alarm for you?

There's nothing he can do to hurt me
now.

Perhaps he'd be so kind as to show us
the school.

Where are the children?

Sent away on a visit to America.

All unhandy.

Their Brazilian heritage from their
mother's side.

Miss Dunbar would seem to be a
remarkable teacher.

The children doubted on her.

See what's in... The Riccardo Franco
Hills.

See those unscalable cliffs, which tie
with the foot of man and are never

touched, where monsters from the dawn of
history might still roam.

That's Martins, the Indian hunter.

Now about him.

His victims, women and children.

Pitiful. Would you say that Maria Gibson
was jealous of Miss Dunbar and her

influence over the children?

There was no love lost between them.

But that was because she could see her
husband was under the lady's spell, too.

Get out of here, Bates!

Mr. Bates, his views are not relevant,
Mr. Holmes. They're distorted by his

infatuation for my late wife.

Who knows, Mr. Gibson, what is and what
is not relevant.

You're like a surgeon who wants every
symptom before he can give a diagnosis.

There's only a patient who has reason in
deceiving his surgeon who conceals the

facts.

I can assure you that the relations
between Mr.

Barr and myself do not touch this case.

Oh, surely that is for me to decide.

Most men have a little private reserve
in some corner of their souls where they

don't welcome intruders.

You burst suddenly into mine. What is it
you want?

I

met

my wife when I was gold hunting in
Brazil.

She was the daughter of a government
official in Manaus.

Even now, as I look back with a colder
eye, she had a rich passion of nature.

Tropical, ill -balanced, very different
from the American women I'd known.

It was only when the romance had passed
that I realized we had nothing,

absolutely nothing in common.

My love faded, but you know the
wonderful way of women.

Do what I might, nothing could turn her
from me.

If I've been harsh to her, even brutal,
it was because I knew that if I could

kill her love or if it turned to hate,
it would be easier for us both.

But nothing changed her.

She still adored me in these English
woods as she had adored me 20 years

on the banks of the Amazon.

Then came Miss Dunbar.

She is also a very beautiful woman, and
I'll admit to you that I could not live

under the same roof in daily contact
with her without feeling a passionate

regard for her.

You blame me, Mr. Holmes? I don't blame
you for feeling it. I should blame you

for expressing it, since she was under
your protection.

Well, maybe so. I'm not pretending to be
any better than I am.

I guess all my life I've been a man that
reached out his hand for what he

wanted. I never wanted anything more
than the love and possession of that

I told her so.

You did, did you?

I said if I could, I'd marry her.

But it was out of my power.

Money was no object. I'd do all I could
to make her happy. Come.

Very generous of you.

Now, see here, Mr. Holmes, I came to you
on a question of evidence, not morals.

I'm not asking for criticism.

It is only for the lady's sake that I
take on this case at all.

Nothing that she is accused of is worse
than what you yourself have admitted.

You tried to ruin the defense of this
girl who was under your roof.

You know, some of you rich men must be
taught...

But all the world cannot be bribed into
condoning your offensives. That's how I

feel myself about it. Now, I thank God
my plans did not work out.

She'd have none of it.

She wanted to leave the house instantly.

Why did she not?

Others were dependent upon her, and it
was no light matter for her to let them

down.

When I'd sworn that she should never be
molested again, she consented to stay.

But there was another reason.

She knew the influence that she had over
me.

That it was stronger than any other
influence in the world.

She wanted to use it for good.

You're cruel.

You destroy good people who can't stand
up to you.

Not everyone shares your strength. Can't
you see that?

You call it a fair fight.

But it isn't fair.

She saw it different.

She believed that a fortune for one man
that was more than he needed should not

be built on 10 ,000 ruined men who were
left without the means of life.

With your children, you show such
tenderness and love.

Treat the world in the same way.

She found that I listened to what she
said.

So she stayed.

And then this came along.

Mr. Gibson, can you throw any light upon
it?

One explanation.

I give it to you, Mr. Holmes, for what
it's worth.

There's no doubt that my wife was
bitterly jealous.

She might have planned to murder Miss
Dunbar or threaten her with a gun and so

frighten her into leaving us.

Maybe there was a scuffle.

The gun went off and shot the woman who
held it.

Yes, it is a possibility.

It is the only alternative to deliberate
murder.

But she utterly denies it. What is
against such a supposition? Miss Dunbar

herself. You have just one day left
before the trial.

You must grant me permission to visit
her once more.

If ever in your life you showed your
powers, Holmes, put them into this case.

Now.

But I cannot promise you that my
conclusions will be such as you desire.

Come, Watson.

Several vital questions to ask this
young lady.

And I must confess that the case would
seem to be a very black one against her

if it were not for one thing.

What is that?

The finding of the pistol in her
wardrobe.

That seems to be the most damning
incident of all.

Not so, Watson.

It is my only firm ground for hope.

We must look for consistency.

Where there is a want of it, we must
suspect deception.

Come on, Holmes.

Dunbar's depending on us. Morton.

Visualise yourself in the character of
Miss Dunbar.

When a cold, premeditated fashion is
about to get rid of her rival, what will

your actions and your thinking?

Well, I've written a note. The victim
has come.

I've taken the weapon from the gunroom.

The crime is done.

Workman like and complete. And now the
weapon.

Precisely.

Those depths would hide it forever.

Your best friend would hardly call you a
schemer, yet I cannot picture you

carrying it home and putting it in your
wardrobe, the very first place that

would be searched.

Mr. Alvaro, for example, she disdains
all knowledge of it. You're saying that

was placed in her wardrobe, but by who?
By someone who wished to incriminate

her. Ah, Cummings.

Ah, Mr. Barr.

We have had lengthy conversations with
Mr. Gibson that he has informed us of

your relations with him and of your
innocence in the matter.

But you need not pain yourself with that
part of the story. But we do need to

know something of your feelings towards
Mrs.

Gibson.

I had no wish to wrong Mrs. Gibson.

But she loved her husband so vividly in
a physical sense.

That she could hardly understand the
mental, even spiritual tie which held

to me.

Or imagine that it was only my desire to
influence his powerful good which kept

me under his roof.

I can see now that I was wrong to stay.

Nothing could have justified me in
remaining where I was a cause of such

unhappiness.

My client may be loath to mention it.

But she has managed to persuade Mr.
Gibson to finance a mission of mercy to

resettle tribes, in particular the
Bororo Indians, who have fallen victim

unscrupulous gold and rubber
prospectors.

The venture is thriving.

We saw your pictures in the school.

Like so many of those warrior Indians,
Mr. Gibson can sometimes give people a

misleading impression.

Now, Miss Dunbar, will you tell us
exactly what happened that evening?

I received a note from Mrs. Gibson in
the morning.

It implored me to meet her at the bridge
after dinner.

This note, did you keep it?

No, she asked me to destroy it and to
hide my answer at the sundial in the

garden.

I saw no reason for such secrecy, but
she was very much afraid of her husband,

who treated her with a harshness for
which I frequently reproached him.

I can only imagine that she did not wish
him to know of our interview.

Yet she kept your reply very carefully.

Yes, I was surprised to hear she had it
in her hand when she died.

Well, what happened then?

She was waiting for me.

So, you have come.

Never did I realize till that moment how
much she hated me.

She was like a mad woman.

I think she was mad, with the deep power
of deception which insane people may

have. You're cruel.

You have no heart.

You don't know how to love. You have no
passion. How else could she have met me

with unconcern every day?

She was standing there on the bridge,
shrieking her curses at me.

I curse the day that you were born!

And yet, presuming that you met a death
shortly after you left, you heard no

shout.

No, I heard nothing. I was so agitated
and horrified by a terrible outbreak

I rushed to get back to the peace of my
own room.

I was incapable of noticing anything
that happened.

Your own room.

Did you leave it again before the next
morning?

Yes.

When they brought the poor creature back
to the house.

Did Mr. Gibson seem to you much
perturbed?

He is a very strong, self -contained
man.

I do not think he would ever show his
emotions on the surface.

But you?

Who knew him so well?

Yes, I could see that he was deeply
concerned.

Now... We come to the all -important
point.

The pistol that... found in your room.
You'd never seen it before.

Never, I swear it.

When was it found?

Next morning, when the police made their
search.

Yes, among your clothes.

Yes, at the bottom of my wardrobe in one
of the drawers.

You cannot guess how long it had been
there.

I could not have been there the morning
before because I'd tidied out the

wardrobe. So you're suggesting that
someone came into your room and placed

there in order to incriminate you?

It must have been so.

When? Um, when it could only have been
at mealtime, or else during the hours

when I would be in the schoolroom with
the children.

As you were when you received the note?

Yes, from that time onward for the whole
morning.

Thank you, Mr. Dunbar.

Is there any other point which could
help me in my investigation?

I can think of none.

Holmes, might I have a word with you in
private?

Forgive me, Mr. Bell.

Holmes, I'd like to put you in my case
for believing that Mr.

Gibran is the murderer of his wife.

We have a man who, by his own admission,
is used to breaking people who stand in

his path.

But they missed on Barr, rejected him.
Now, what better than to kill the one

incriminate the other?

To kill the two birds with the one
stone, that's a big... You don't believe

Gibbsville's confession was so clear?

Wasn't it Bates who said he was
plausible and cunning?

His confession was a clever means to put
us off the fence. Think of it like

this.

He somehow discovers that his wife has
arranged a meeting.

During the day, he takes two pistols
from the box.

One he concealed in the door of her
warden, after discharging one barrel,

he could easily do in the woods without
attracting attention.

He is alone all that evening.

He sees Miss Dunbar return and grasps
his opportunity.

He commits the deed and flings the
murder weapon far into the lake.

I've been sluggish in mind, and wanting
in that mixture of imagination and

reality with the laziness of my art.

You have put me entirely to shame.

You'll be hearing from me, Mr.

Cummings.

With the help of the God of Justice and
my colleague Dr. Watson, I will give you

a case that will make England ring.

Mr. Dunbar, you have my assurance.

that the clouds are lifting, and the
light of truth is breaking through the

clouds.

We need our good friend Carton Country,
a bowl of stout wine, and a

grappling hook.

Grappling hook?

What? I have some recollection that you
go armed on these little excursions of

ours. Just as well for you that I do.
More than once, my revolver has been a

good friend to you.

And a little care of your own safety.

Yes, I am inclined to be absent -minded
in these matters. Do you have your

revolver on you?

Heavy.

Remarkably heavy.

Solid bit of work.

You know, I believe this is going to
have a very intimate connection with the

mystery that we're investigating. Would
you mind unloading it?

Will you be at home, Mr. Gibson?

I should have some news for you.

You have half a day.

Mr. Holmes.

You have seen me miss my mark before,
what?

I have an instinct for such things, but
it has sometimes played me false.

We can but try.

We both tell exactly where the body
lies.

Your theory about the Gold King, though
admirable in its psychology, did not

quite adhere to the facts.

Visualize yourself in the character of a
woman.

who in a cold, premeditated fashion is
about to get rid of a rival.

I mean, of course, Mrs. Maria Gibson.

For all your deductions about Gibson
being the perpetrator of this crime,

substitute his wife.

Imagine that it was she who took the
pistols from the gun room, who fired

the single shot in the woods, who placed
the gun in Miss Dunbar's wardrobe.

Cold.

Crafty.

Premeditated.

Down to the last detail.

Now for it.

Was that ever a more exact
demonstration?

My revolver, Holmes.

A vindictive woman, a creature of the
tropics, passionate, ill -balanced,

disguising her own crime and fastening a
charge of murder upon an innocent

victim.

You have helped a remarkable woman and a
formidable man.

And if it seems not unlikely they should
join forces?

Naturally, I would wish them well.

Magnanimous of you, Watson.